Comprehension
by Eskarina
Summary: Chell/Human!Wheatley; Proably only another of many stories of the same ilk; GLADos has let them go, but at the price of Wheatley's sphere, now a few months on he's learning, he's helping and for whatever reason Chell seems to like having him around. Now if only he could work out what she's trying to tell him... Slight fluff, Some language and references to adult activity
1. Curiosity

(A/N: ^^ well hope you like, may continue depending on reactions. Please be nice or constructive in criticism, first time writing Portal fanfiction)

Disclaimer: Portal & Portal 2 are the property of Valve, I'm just playing with their toys.

He stared at her, expression as blank and uncomprehending as ever. Chell let out a frustrated sigh, casting her eyes skywards, as if that would hold the words she lacked.

Obviously thinking he'd hit on the solution, the gangly man crouched before her twisted his own head up.

"…Cobwebs? You don't like the cobwebs?" he suggested, meekly, aware that the chances of this being what she was trying to covey to him were remote at best.

Chell shook her head, dark hair splaying slightly over her shoulder. Her lips pursed in that way that he'd learned meant 'Thinking'. He quite liked that face, definitely in the top ten faces, that one. It was like she had her own little processor.

For something to do, he shifted his weight from his protesting calves, sitting back on the wooden floor and watching the spiders scurry about the ceiling.

They'd been out… how long? That would be easier to answer if he still had the internal clock, the one in this body seemed to struggle with identifying one day to the next.

Anyway, they were out. Far away and free as… as…

He winced, free as something very free. There, that would do. _She_ had thrown them both out, Chell with a song, and him with an unceremonious announcement of… of…

He shuddered, he didn't like this bit. Why couldn't he erase memories anymore? Human brains were supposed to be pretty complex, this one didn't seem to be much cop.

But there it was, the moment when he'd felt the world dropping away from him, heard GLADos snarl that he was _not_ coming back, and him screaming into those eyes, those lovely dark eyes, (he'd always liked them, even as a sphere, for some unaccountable reason),

"_Catch me! Hold on tight! Please grab me! I can still fix this, I can still-"_

Had she known? Known that in those seconds, he wasn't talking about the facility, the world, anything… amazing how almost dying could put things into perspective.

He could still fix whatever was left of their friendship.

That train of thought, that lead to wondering if Chell had known, even when he was plugged into that body… (god, it still made him shudder) that he'd been desperate to break the protocols.

Hadn't he _tried_ to tell her the solution?

Hadn't he said that he wanted things to be just fine?

But the chassis… it twisted and corrupted and like everything he'd ever tried things went wrong. God, he'd even considered offering her suicide; better than having the memory of himself killing her, embedded deeper than coding could break.

Chell had _held_ _on._

And when She demanded that Chell hand him over for punishment, Chell had curled her body around the sphere and glared back, an expression that had read so very clearly, '_Come and take him.'_

Back in the present, Chell rose to her feet and began to wander about the shack they found themselves in. He watched her with unseeing blue eyes, wrapped up in the long-time ago.

"_Even after all that, you won't hand the little idiot over?"_

_A defiant head shake. Wheatley became aware of her heart, thudding against his shell._

"_I see… well then, seeing as I won't allow him to leave without some punishment, and I'm certainly not keeping you in my facility to break everything you get your simian hands on… what about a little experiment?"_

_A loosening of her grip, only slight. Everything became… hazy._

_A mechanical voice, "It would be for the best, of course I could just let you leave with him like this; how long do you think he'll last without power? This way you get to keep your pet burden."_

_Silences, long ones._

_Elevator, the sensation of moment, his eye… __**eyes **__opening. That horrible great chassis hovering above, him encased in a glass tube. Legs, legs in front of him, strong and sure._

"_Just go. Both of you." The shape begins to shift, as the elevator moves up. "Think of him as a companion cube." Pause. "Only not as durable. Or intelligent."_

The first few days had been the worst, Wheatley decided. All the new sensations and senses and functions… how the hell did humans keep track of it? It had taken him ages to even realise that the breathing and heartbeat more or less took care of itself. And the feeling of decaying around himself wore off with only occasional flashbacks.

But now, well, he was doing ok. Better than could be expected, really. He was helping, admittedly only by opening jars and reaching high things and… and the other thing, but frankly just that she let him be near her was more than he deserved.

"You all right, love? Figured out what you need to tell me?" he prompted, watching Chell wander about the shack, she was frustrated, he could tell, with her muteness, and his inability to understand.

They had some simple signs, mostly meaning variations on 'This way' 'come here' and so on. And he'd learned that when she slumped in that certain way against the walls of the various empty buildings they kept running across it meant he was supposed to put his arms around her.

He made a note to ask her why she was so small, compared to him, probably another male-female human thing, he decided. He'd learnt lots about that as well, Chell was… proving to be quite the educator in that department. Yes.

She flopped down onto the floor in front of him again, eyes narrowed in determination, then pointed sharply at him.

"Me?" he guessed, and noting the slight shake of her head began the usual game of charades they had to resort to when no gesture would do. "Um, ok, not me… um… male? No? Robot? Human? Wheatley?" at her suddenly brightening eyes he smiled, "Wheatley! Ok, Wheatley! Second bit?"

Chell licked her lips, pointing at herself. He was quicker on the draw this time;

"Ok, um, Chell? Wheatley and Chell?"

He almost bounced on the spot when she nodded encouragingly, then drew both her palms together but for an inch of space.

He knew this one, "Little! Small! We're getting good at this! Wheatley and Chell little… something." He paused, giving her a weak grin, "That's where we hit the snag, eh?"

She tried anyway, pointing enthusiastically at her stomach;

"Hungry? You're a little hungry?"

She frowned and shook her head, he hadn't thought that would be it anyway, the human buildings, while distinctly lacking in any, well, humans, did seem to contain a lot of tins and jars of food. He'd been piling the stuff into some of the sacks of the nasty, rough material when she came in; ready to move on to the next place. Chell was very insistent about them keeping travelling.

He tried again, "Ok, ok, what else is in there… human biology… tubes, blood, stomach… is it a bit we both have? No? Right… um…"

The robot-turned-man sighed and whistled through his front teeth, shaking his head, "I'm sorry love, not got a clue." He waited for the disappointment, the shaking of her head.

None came, much to his surprise, she just frowned a little and tried again; tenacity at its best, that girl. She drew her arms together across her front, gripping her own elbows before rocking them slowly across her body.

"Um… shaking thing. Right, me, you, small thing, your stomach, shaking. Ummmm…" his tongue clicked on the roof of his mouth, seeking a reference. Chell was staring, wide-eyed and hopeful.

And _still_ nothing came. Why couldn't that colossal hanging _bitch_ have given him an internal encyclopaedia? Oh right; no punishment there. No punishment in sending him out into a world where he might have been marginally more use to Chell than he currently was.

"Anything else?" he pleaded.

Chell's face fell, she moved to stand and his hands shot out almost before he gave the command, seizing her arm and yelping, "No love please, let me have another go! I swear I can-"

He saw her eyes; god, he was lucky they were so expressive, they'd been a great help when words and gestures wouldn't do.

"You're… fetching something? To help?"

Chell nodded, a little smile more than enough reward, and then she darted away, through the door that was only attached to the frame by one hinge, across the dirt pathway and into that building they'd found all the tins and jars in. Wheatley squinted through the curiously square hole in the wall (what was it with humans? Building something then putting great stonking holes in everything?) at the sign over it.

"Shhhhh….Op." he muttered. Well, 'Shhh' meant 'Shut up Wheatley', he knew that one. And Op… Op… a memory from the days of Aperture surfaced. Ah, Op, shorthand for operations. Quiet operations. All right, didn't make a lot of sense, but he could question Chell about that later.

She reappeared in the doorway of their (how quickly he'd learnt collective words like their, we, ours…) shack, holding up one of the jars with a proud smile, before thrusting it under his nose.

He blinked, examining the thing. The words were no good, learning to read was another thing he was no bloody good at; but pictures were good, pictures showed you what was inside the tins and jars.

He flinched, "Um… little human… ugh, is this another human thing? Cannibalism?" a memory flashed a fin in his mind. "Oh, well… carnivores sometimes eat the little ones, right? Is that it? Eating the weak ones?" he felt a little disgust at the idea, but then he was new to the human thing, he'd defer to the expert.

The expert who was currently banging her head against the wall.

"Oh love no, no, don't!" he protested again, taking another look at the jar, "Ok, ok, is this like… like seeds or something? It grows humans?"

Chell shook her head, then paused and nodded… then shook her head again; at least she was still smiling though, even if she was completely confused. Still, seemingly she was spent and crossed the floor to fall unceremoniously into his lap. He liked that; being able to curl around her was nice, like being a shield. And she was warm and had lots of soft bits and she breathed so nicely-

Nuzzling her face into his shoulder, she seemed to decide on one last try, and placed her hand on his chest, where humans kept their central processor bit, he remembered that much. He tried to recall the name.

"Um… central… core… no no, um… lung? Not Lung? Appendix? No, that's the bit for grass… heart? Oh! Heart, brilliant.."

Chell seemed to agree, took one of his hands, (horrible great knuckle-y things compared to hers, he noted) and dragged it to rest on her chest, over her own fluttering little mechanism.

He grinned, glad of knowing the answer. "Your heart. My heart, your heart. Right, two human hearts. Good start."

Chell licked her lips, raised her hand, showing three fingers.

"Third word? Oh, wait, no, just three. Three. Right, two hearts, Three."

A pause then. Longer this time, and Chell tensed a little, sitting up somewhat against his bony frame; had he got it? Surely _that_ one was clear enough? If that didn't work she was going to have to just _wait_ until it became obvious even to this numbskull and by then she'd preferably want him more prepared than this.

"Two hearts… three." He muttered again. His eyes flickered a little, reminding her of the times before… like little electrical surges.

Comprehension failed to dawn. "All right… tricky little word puzzle, that one. But I'll think about it." He promised, smiling in what he hoped was a winning way. "Devoting 90% of all brain function to solving the test, love."

Chell shook her head, but fondly this time, and slumped against him, allowing her eyes to close. Well, at least he was thinking about it, maybe the marriage of all the signals would spark something in his head. Maybe some long-dead primal memory would surface and give him a hint.

Maybe he wouldn't get it until she started to swell, or until the event itself; there was a horrible thought, blood, pain and him panicking as he always did when she was hurt while she just tried to _get on with it_.

They'd have to stop travelling, she knew. But not for a while yet, the road ahead was probably full of unknown dangers but she was willing to take the gamble in exchange for finding more humans (or failing that, a larger food supply).

"Oh wait, is this about finding more humans?" Wheatley suggested, "Two, then three, then more?" he was grinning in that hopeful puppy way again.

Chell raised her hand and holding her palm flat, wobbled it slightly.

"Almost." He translated. "Right, almost about finding more humans, well-"

She turned her hand to press one finger to his lips. That was another signal he'd learned really fast.

"Oh, ok. You want to sleep, right. Shutting up. Right now."

Chance would be a fine thing, Chell mused, closing her eyes.

"Yep. Just quiet time. Oh! Chell, what's Quiet Operations mean?"


	2. Anger

They'd wandered two days travel from the shell of the town when _it_ happened.

Wheatley woke to the sound of Chell doing that food-coming back-up thing. He mentally classified that as one of the worst sounds in the world and crawled from the makeshift shelter of sheet metal and sticks to where she leant against the tree, holding her stomach, hair splayed over her shoulder and face.

"Oh love…" he mumbled, stretching one hand out, hating the sight of his bony fingers and hands seemingly made of nothing but knuckles touching her, rubbing the middle part of her back where the long support bit of human backs ran. He sought for a frame of reference on why this was happening and recalled the few times he'd eaten food Chell hadn't already approved. "Bad food? Was it those squishy things in the red stuff? Cuz they looked pretty awful."

Chell shook her head; this turned out to be a mistake as she arched over again, the rest of last night's warmed-up beans coming up in an acidic rush. She spat twice and stood up, determined that this would be the last wave. She didn't have the energy reserves to throw up all of their meagre food, pregnancy or not.

She stumbled slightly as she stood, for a moment the world went swimmy, but god, there were arms, long and gangly, lacking any muscle definition, curling around her and a chest for her to fall against. Not as much use as a companion cube? GLADos could kiss Chell's well-toned ass if she thought that was true.

His voice was high and distressed, "Love? Chell? Aggh… I don't know what to do! What am I supposed to do?"

She managed to lift her head, to meet his frantic electric-blue eyes and give him a weak smile. This seemed to calm him enough for him to take in the next gesture, of her lifting one hand to her lips and swallowing imaginary fluid.

"Water!" He chirped, always eager to help when he knew how, and darted from her side to their makeshift packs. Chell grabbed one of the tree branches to stop herself falling when he removed his support; eager to help and a bit thick, she corrected herself.

The canteen was offered and she sipped, spat again, and drank. God, the water was good, good, clean… fresh… well, all right, possibly swarming with parasites and radiation, but anything would have tasted like ambrosia after the artificial foods of Ap-

She shook her head. No, no thinking of that place. Other things to think about now. Whatley, herself. Other humans.

"Better?" Wheatley whined anxiously, eyeing her for signs of discomfort. She nodded, handing the canteen back and walking (slowly) to their shelter. She began to pull out their packs, to go through what was in them in her firm, calculating way, while behind her his voice went on in soothing litany;

"We won't eat anymore of those red things, if they make you sick. I mean, let's face it ol' Wheatley wouldn't last five minutes with you sick. Getting better though, right? Every day, getting a bit better at this human lark… I think I'm doing better anyway. Lots of controls to work out still; I've got more to control than you too!" He paused, looking himself up and down, "I'm bloody _massive_ compared to you. Why is that?"

Chell glanced over her shoulder, smiled faintly. It was a never-ending source of fascination to Wheatley that their bodies were so different. Where she was small, barely five feet tall and with tan skin, he was pushing six feet with corn-blonde hair (she'd discovered after convincing him that bathing wouldn't short-circuit him). The physicality's of male and female were marginally easier to explain, she'd found. He seemed to comprehend that there were two basic sorts of human, just _why_ that was, was another mystery to him.

"Oh, just one of those male-human vs. female-human things?"

He was learning though. She almost wondered if part of the sphere programming had been an inability to learn from past mistakes, because things seemed to be going in and sticking now. He'd got the hang of scavenging on his own and she was working on teaching him about fire.

He seemed to sense that she didn't have the answer to his question and shrugged, placing his hands behind his head and whistling between his front teeth again. He seemed to do that when he was thinking.

He was, in his own odd way, handsome. Chell was willing to admit that part of her affection was probably because he was the first other human she'd ever seen, as well as being her first ever friend in the facility, but there was something there that appealed to her on an aesthetic level. With a little more muscle, he could be a protector, a little more knowledge about food and water and he might be capable of taking care of her.

It would be easier, she felt, if they could just find some more humans. Not least of which because then he'd see that humans in fact came in all shapes, sizes and colours. She'd be able to relax a little about what was going to happen when…

Well, no sense avoiding it, when the baby was born.

He was still no closer to working out that one, she noted. Sometimes as they walked she'd catch him muttering 'Two hearts, three' to himself and occasionally 'Wheatley, Chell, little stomach.' It would have been sweet if she wasn't so worried.

They packed up and moved on quickly, there was a large building on the horizon that Chell was keen to get to before she got much bigger; it was a warehouse, warehouses held useful things, maybe other humans, food, weapons. _Anything_.

They'd gone little more than two miles when they both heard the noise. A high-pitched wail, growing closer with every second. Rapid footsteps, someone running.

Chell spun, hand yanking the sharp piece of metal from the belt made of her tied-together jumpsuit arms, Wheatley staggered back and scanned the ground for a stick or a stone; definitely needed to get Chell to give him a sharp metal thing too, he noted.

The figure came hurtling out of the midday sun; Chell's mouth dropped open and the blade fell from her hand.

It was human. Small, skeletal, and making a god-awful noise, but it was _human_! She reached out a hand for the poor… man?

He sped past her, arms akimbo, and barrelled straight into Wheatley, throwing both of them to the ground while the stranger continued yammering away at a speed he had no chance of deciphering. Chell let out a growl and seized the pitiful creature's back, yanking him away and reaching for her blade again- if he'd hurt Wheatley-

It occurred to her that the frail figure of a man was wearing what she would forever call Aperture orange at the same time as the frantic gabbling slowed down enough for them both to take in one word;

"SPAAAACE!"

Bight yellow eyes pinballed around their sockets as the man, barely more than a boy, if Chell was any judge, curled in on himself in the characteristic rocking of the deranged. "Space, space, too much space, wanna go home now. Space!"

Chell, still slack-jawed, turned to where Wheatley still lay on the ground; he looked as blank as her.

Still, he was in a better position to get _something_ out of this and shifted to sit up. When _he'd_ been turned, Chell had put her arms around him and made him calm. He sensed that asking her to do the same here wouldn't be a good move.

He could try talking. Talking could work, he was good at that in the same way Chell was good at the physical contact thing. He licked his lips;

"Um… mate? You… all right?"

Well that was a bloody stupid question, any programmed-to-be-stupid man could see that this fella was _not_ all right. Wheatley took in the bruised and bloodied feet and surmised he'd been running for a while. Not had someone to guide him not to step on the sharp things either.

"Space. Space is dark. Wanna go home. Spaaaaace!"

Wheatley tried again; "Calm down mate, you are home. Sort of…" he paused, considering the next move, "Can't help but notice you're um… a bit human."

The Space core's madly spinning eyes stopped briefly, staring at Wheatley. "Astronaut?"

Having no reference for that, Wheatley twisted to where Chell stood. She shook her head, then mouthed one word, slowly and as clearly as she could for him to lip-read.

"Oh, right!" Wheatley chirped, "Ok mate, any idea why you're human?" he paused, an unpleasant memory flickered to the front of his mind; of operating rooms, memory banks being torn away, his body falling away like wet cake only to be pulled back together into a shape he didn't understand. "Actually, probably best not to think about that! Did… did SHE send you?"

The space core blinked, then shuddered. "Space… dragged back from space…" his voice shifted, to a higher pitch, an imitation of a voice that still haunted both Chell and Wheatley's nightmares; "Corrupted core meat-bag transfer experiment complete. Experiment status; somewhat successful. Releasing subject… enjoy your space." It shuddered again, then _screamed_ "SPAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAA-"

Chell reached out and slapped the man, and his scream cut off, overwrought and exhausted, the small man fell against Wheatley, bright hysterical eyes slamming closed as unconsciousness took over.

Wheatley shuddered, shifting him away to lay across the earth. Now he was still, they both saw the tag sewn onto the front of the poor thing's jumpsuit, in the same place as their own. Terrible as Wheatley's ability to read was, he could comprehend the name _She_ gave her little experiment.

_SPACE_

"Sh… she made him a human." Wheatley muttered. Stating the obvious, that was a good start. "She made him a human like me and then chucked him out. Why?" he sounded… so pleading, as he turned to Chell for some explanation, "I know she's bloody horrible but- but _why_? Why just throw him out? That's just… bloody pointless."

Chell had a shrewd idea, frowning to herself she dropped to her knees to confirm the already growing suspicion. Wheatley watched, momentarily speechless, as she rolled the poor core's trouser legs up.

_Ah_.

Thin but deep scars ran up the backs of it- of Space's legs. Matching Chell's own set. Long-fall boots.

A second examination, this time of it's right arm revealed deep bruises that matched a semi-permanent set on Chell's arm.

Wheatley blinked hard, Chell had a horrible feeling he was trying not to cry. The idea of water coming out of him distressed the former core, he called it 'leaking', so he tried not to do it often, even when the nightmares were strong or the flashbacks painful.

"Tests." He grunted, then reached to the former Space core's arms, lifting him up onto his back. The poor creature was seemingly weightless, a pale shadow of a human being.

Wheatley was strangely silent as they set about putting up a shelter. No chance of travelling; they didn't even need to discuss the idea of leaving this sad figure behind. Mutely the tall man dragged Space into the shelter and threw one of their scrounged blankets over him.

Chell made the fire, she didn't yet trust that Wheatley could do that alone; he seemed to get the theory of metal on stone making sparks, but she had visions of him lighting himself on fire and-

"She put him in a human and then she threw him away." Wheatley muttered. "Put him in one of these bodies that don't seem to work properly, no offence, love, and then she made him run tests. And he wasn't any good at them, poor sod, and she threw him away."

Chell nodded. That did seem to be the case. She wasn't sure she liked his tone though, or that he wasn't wasting words. Wheatley _chattered_ incessantly, he didn't sit and stare like this, he couldn't be _silent_ for longer than ten seconds at a time.

One gangly hand went out and ruffled the brown-black hair on Space's head. The young man whimpered and roused enough to mutter "Space." Before dropping back into whatever dreams he was having.

"Poor bloody failed experiments… three failed experiments, that's us." Wheatley muttered. "Not that I think you're a failure, love, you're brilliant, you're more… broke the programming." He scowled, frwoling out the words as he waved between himself and the pathetic sleeping figure, "s' me and this poor bugger, failed experiments. Built to bloody well fail."

Chell licked her lips, she was starting to get it now. Anger, a whole new emotion for Wheatley, her cheerful, chattery Wheatley. In some ways, she was proud; getting angry on behalf of someone else was one of the marks of the humanity that he was so eager to acquire. On another level though, it worried her, it was too, too close to the way he'd spoke when… when…

Unbidden and unwelcome, the memory came rushing back.

"_I've sacrificed and sacrificed to get us here! And what have you done? Nothing! Well now look who's the boss… it's ME!"_

"Chell? Love?"

"_I AM NOT A MORON!"_

"Chell!"

"_Could a moron PUNCH! YOU! INTO! THIS! PIT!?"_

_And the sensation of the world falling away…_

Chell wrenched her mind back, forced herself back to the present. She waved a hand before her eyes and pulled a fearful expression, a signal she was sure he'd get, usually it was reserved for when one or the other woke from a nightmare.

"Bad dream?" he questioned, then frowned, "You're awake though love. Dreams are only when you're asleep, you told me that." He paused, then realisation dawned. "Oh! Like a dream only awake! I get those. Memories. Right."

Another of those long silences. Chell rubbed her head and examined the tins they'd scavenged, Space would need something to feed him up… if they could get him to wake up and comprehend 'eating'.

"Memory of what, love?" Wheatley piped up, still not moving from Space's side. "I mean, I can guess, but… specifics. Like, with me it's always the transfer…" Wheatley shuddered almost imperceptibly, then smiled a little, "but… saying it makes it…" he waved his hands, "less real. I don't know. I'd… I'd like if I could do that for you."

Chell shook her head, taking the chance to warm the tin over their little fire.

"No, love?" He sounded hurt.

How to explain this?

A hand gripped her wrist, gentle, but insistent. Electric-blue eyes were full of concern. "Love…"

Well, he wasn't going to learn unless she taught him. And how could she refuse those pleading eyes?

She picked a stick from the fire-side and traced it through the dirt. He grinned and watched, he liked to watch when she made things, it was one of those bloody ingenious things humans did, making things.

She drew, and she drew a circle, with one great eye in the centre and a smile beneath. He tilted his head at it, "Is that me?"

She nodded, then began to add to the happy little sphere while he babbled on;

"Oh. Oh blimy, look at that, happy little core Wheatley, hovering along his little command rail… oh, that's not a command rail, is it? Coz command rails are long and thin and, no offence to your picture-making skills but…" he trailed off, tilting his head at the addition she'd made. A great, curving shape rising out of the top of the core, all wires and panels.

He swallowed hard, she reached and swept her hand over the core's smile and eye, then re-drew them, the smile inverted, the eye narrowed.

He went pale. "Oh. That's… right. Yeah. When I… when… when all that happened." He seemed to make the connection, twisting towards her suddenly, "Just then when I was getting all hot and growling about _her_… it made you think of _then_, right?"

Chell nodded, a little ashamed of the admission herself, logically, the two moments were worlds apart, and this one was actually rather nice; the AI turned human was able to empathise, able to get angry on behalf of his fellows. That was a far cry from the maniacal laughter and punching Chell into a pit.

Huge arms curled around her, warm body pressed against her, all skin and bones but human, and unquestioningly, _hers_

"Oh love, I'm so sorry… don't think I'll ever say sorry enough, will I? Tell you what, I'll just keep saying it when there's nothing else to say and you let me know when it's enough, right? Ok, starting now; Sor-"

Chell's hand leapt up and covered his flapping lips before he finished the first apology. She gave him a gentle smile that meant so much more than words ever could.

Behind her hand, he grinned goofily. She lowered it and brought her lips to his, sighing softly through her nose before slipping away to return to their food. He shifted back into what she considered to be a 'worried parent' pose by the sleeping Space core.

(A/n: You unlocked the achievement: Spaaaaaaace! XD

:) Nah seriously, got a bit of a plot bunny in my head over this all of a sudden, and Spacey's my second fave core. Plus it gives our beloved idiot a chance to train up as a dad a bit. Hope you liked, r&r!)


	3. Fact

(A/N: Ok, adding some backstory here and taking some absolutely MASSIVE liberties with the fanon and canon. Bear with me, and remember this is just for fun, :) )

Chell awoke later than usual, normally she rose with the dawn. More pregnancy interference, she suspected, still, the food was staying down today which was a bonus. She stretched and took a quick stock of her surroundings.

Under the shelter, good, (she still had nightmares of waking and finding herself back in the facility). No sign of Wheatley, but his voice was babbling away somewhere nearby, so no worries there. She strained to hear just what he was prattling on about today;

"No, look, Ahhh-pull. C'mon mate, have another go."

"Spaaaace?"

"No, no, look, it's not hard, I know you can say other words, have a try for old Wheatley, there's a good little… whatever you are."

"I'm Space."

"That's another thing, we're gonna have to get you another name, I'm not sure you can be called Space."

"Wanna be Space."

"All right, we'll call you Space for now if you'll say Apple, deal?"

There was a slight pause.

"Ahhhh-pace!"

Chell grinned at the groan Wheatley gave, one of utter frustration, and wondered how long he'd been at this? Well, it would give him a new perspective on _her_ efforts to teach him.

"Look you got the hang of food and walking all right, you even managed getting wet faster than I did which is frankly amazing, but I'm gonna go bloody mental if you say one more word about space!"

Space clammed up, blinking his gold eyes at Wheatley. "Wanna go home?" he tried.

Wheatley sighed, but smiled, something warm in his chest made him reach out and pat the Space core's head; Chell did that to him when he did something right, technically Spacey had obeyed and said nothing about Space, so he deserved a reward.

"All right, eat the apple and I'll wake th' missus." Wheatley declared, standing and wincing slightly at the stiffness in his joints. He offered the opened tin of stewed apples to Space, who fell on it like Wheatley was offering the moon.

In her most basic of beds, Chell smiled faintly to herself; this was hopeful, not only was Wheatley finding himself something to do without her prompting, he was trying to help someone else. Distinctly un-robotic things. And, she couldn't help but notice, he was using accidental words again.

Every now and then, when he wasn't thinking too hard (well, when he was even more absent from his own mind than usual) he'd say something. He'd look over the deserted landscape and ask what happened to all the 'Quaint little towns' he'd heard about. He'd stare into water and ask where the fish were. And just then, referring to her as 'the missus'.

She hardly dared to think about the implication, and certainly didn't dare tell him, but… she strongly suspected that the body he was in now wasn't just that of a random man too brain-damaged to test. The same for Space (Wheatley was right, they should really try to find him a proper name). After her experiences, Chell would believe anything of that sick, twisted abomination in the name of science.

Space watched the other two get on with the morning tasks, gnawing the apple chunks with squirrel-like delicacy. These must have been his family, he supposed. He wasn't too sure about the smaller, darker one who never said anything, but the tall one who babbled on and on and gave him food, that one was nice.

Licking his fingers free of syrup, Space tilted his head slightly.

He _remembered_ the chattery one. From a long time ago.

From the waiting room, that was it. When he'd sat there reading through the phonebook-sized contract with only mild interest. Paperwork was for those geniuses in the lab, surely?

_There'd been others there, he recalled. Two other men, one was a big guy, arms nearly ripping through his forest-green shirt. That was right, and some sort of logo on the right breast._

"_See that? Forest ranger Rick, buddy-boy. I've wrassled a few bears in my time, yes-sirree-bob, tests, pfft, nothin. How about you?" an appraising look, then a somewhat cruel smirk, "Frat boy? Looking for a couple of bucks for the weekend?"_

_Space smiled, "Astronaut. Fellas at NASA owed Aperture a favour, delivering moon rocks." he patted the container at his side, "Thought I'd run a few of these anti-grav tests while I'm here." He laughed gently, "I'm uh, a prodigy, so they say."_

_He remembered the big man's expression fading from cruel, to slack-jawed, then a weak smile. "Oh. Oh. Right then. So uh… you must be pretty fit right? How much can you bench-press?"_

"_Will you put a sock in it?" the thin man snapped, the one who'd finished his own contract in record time and was now deeply engrossed in an exceptionally thick book. He hadn't even looked up. Space remembered staring at him though._

_The man's hair was a shock of white, a strange sight on someone who looked to be in his early thirties, his skin almost colourless, and wearing a labcoat, Space wondered if he worked there?_

_He seemed to suddenly become aware of their stares and lifted his head. The glasses on his face were tinted blue. He reached up and lowered them, prompting Space's mouth to slacken a bit and the muscular man to blurt;_

"_Jee-sus, what's wrong with yer eyes?"_

"_I have albinism." The lab coat man replied, leant across and offered his hand to Space. "I'm Professor Craig Wikard… didn't catch your name."_

Space winced, a muscle memory of reaching out and shaking hands was there, but all that his ears remembered was a sudden, sharp burst of static. Not that it would matter, his mouth was never totally under control anyway, and these images were senseless. He remembered hands but he was a sphere, he'd never had hands, right?

_Craig was talking, explaining something about scientific curiosity about their advancements in A.I. here at Aperture. They'd agreed to take him onto their team if he ran a few tests for them, he'd jumped at the chance._

_The door opened mid-way through his speech about the implications of his research and the woman, the one who'd met Space at the door (and he assumed, all the others), lead in a fourth man. He though, came second to another examination of her, Space suspected he wasn't the only one giving her another look._

_Her hair was dark black, a stark contrast to the white dress, a short red scarf knotted, business-like around her neck. Older than him, by quite a bit really, but with that certain classiness and beauty that was ageless. She gestured to the empty chair and pushed another enormous contract into the new man's hands as he sat. "Please fill this out and await your call to be tested. I apologise for the delay, gentlemen." She nodded, and exited, Space could have sworn he heard her mutter something about saving her from these fools, but said nothing._

_Rick smirked, "Getta load of the cougar, eh fellas? Heh, I reckon Ricky here's gonna be trappin himself that pussycat before the day's over."_

_The new guy flashed a smile around the room, seemingly unfazed by Craig… __**Professor**__ Craig's appearance, or the lead-lined box next to Space, then settled into his contract._

_The esteemed professor shrugged, then continued in his speech._

_After a moment or two, the new man, the one who appeared to be too tall for his body with hair too blonde to be natural chirped, "Hey lads, does Aperture have one 'A' or two?" in what was possibly the happiest British accent Space had ever heard. Not that he'd heard many. Anyway, the guy sounded happy._

_The three men eyed him. Craig let out a long, low sigh, then turned deliberately to the __**huge**__ logo on the wall, examining it a moment before replying, "One, as any idiot can deduce."_

_The new man frowned slightly at this, muttering, "Oh, right. Ok, could have just looked at that myself… sorry."_

_Ranger Rick smirked, finding something new to poke fun at, it seemed. "Ya not from round here beanpole?"_

_The blonde laughed and rubbed the back of his head, "S'not that bloody obvious is it? I hopin I'd pick up the accent a bit quicker." He paused, waiting, it seemed, for another question, then finding none were being given, seemed to decide to answer everything that could be asked. "Got called over, can you believe that? I mean I knew I was pretty sharp with computers but __**wow, **__getting called over to America, and by Aperture, man alive! Course Black Mesa were interested too but me old mum, she said I'd already promised Aperture so here I am! Gotta remember to give her a bell later, she'll be so bloody excited and-"_

_Professor Craig huffed slightly, halfway back to his book, "Hm. They called you over for what reason, exactly? I didn't realise they were short of lab animals."_

_The brit didn't seem fazed by this, or possibly didn't understand the jibe. "Eh? Oh, why I'm here! Well see, I like ripping computers apart, making them do other stuff, you know? Getting into mainframes too, I mean sometimes stuff blows up but when they do work…" the man grinned wider, if possible, "Oh-hoh, I can make computers sing. Anyway the other week I was messing about with this old Mac, and my mum, right, she works with kids who have special needs and one of them's got this thing… can't remember what it's called, but basically he's blind and deaf, whole sensory input system's shot. So I made this neat thing, attaches to his head and into the machine, and now it like… guess the easy way of saying it is it reads his thoughts." _

_There was a brief, silent respite containing only the annoyed glowers of Craig, and Rick's raised eyebrow, neither of them, it seemed, believed a word. Space leant closer though, intrigued._

"_It reads his mind?"_

_The blonde man hesitated, chewing his bottom lip, "Ish. Anyway people back home got well excited, turns out it works when you hook it up to coma victims and all sorts And you can use it to kind of 'store' brain functions, I figure 'bam!' end of people dying during brain surgery, right? Get in with one of the big robotics companies and just like that we're downloading people into robots! One of the papers even said I was a genius, can you believe that?"_

"_No." Craig huffed._

"_Well, uh… sure sounds impressive buddy. Heh, maybe ya should sign my hat! Then I can tell th' junior rangers I met the fella who invented people in robots." Rick replied, he still sounded incredulous, but Space suspected that was more because he didn't understand a word of what had been said, or the implications._

_It did sound a little unbelievable, Space thought. But then stranger things had happened- men walking on the moon, for one._

_The door creaked open and as if on string, their heads lifted; eager to see the beauty again._

_So they were rather surprised when a little girl skipped into the room instead. Her dark hair was tied into pigtails that bounced soundlessly on her shoulders, she wore an orange pinafore dress and carried a small, honey coloured bear. She stared around at them, blinking those simply enormous dark eyes before strolling to the coffee table where the magazines were scattered, routing through them on some strange childhood mission._

"_Oh, hello pet, where'd you spring from?" The Brit almost cooed. Space smiled; obviously the man had inherited his mother's love of children._

_The Brit moved from his chair to kneel next to the little girl. "Where's your mum then princess? Or your dad?"_

_The little girl didn't look up from whatever she was searching for in the papers. She seemed mildly irritated at the strange man trying to talk to her, actually._

_Unfazed, the blonde man continued, "Oh, who's this guy?" he asked, picking up the teddy bear, "Hi Teddy!"_

"_HeLlO?"_

_He almost dropped the plush toy, staring at it wide-eyed before muttering, "Ah… talking teddy."_

"_ArE yOu StIlL tHeRe?" the toy squeaked in a disconcerting child-like voice._

_The blonde man laughed, Space wondered how a man who was amused by a simple child's toy could have invented a way to download human brains to disk by accident. _

"_Still here Ted."_

"_ThErE yOu ArE!"_

"_That's downright creepy if ya ask me." Rick muttered, "Kids should be outside, catchin polliwogs in jars an learning sports, not messing with talking teddies. An' what if she thinks bears are like that when she gets older eh? More work for Ranger Rick. Ya'll lost, lil lady?"_

_The girl lifted her head, gave the ranger a withering look and turned only enough to take her teddy bear from the tall man. She stuck her tongue out while she was doing it._

"_Oi! Cheeky little-" the man started to grumble._

"_I apologise gentlemen."_

_The white-clad woman who seemed to be in charge was in the room again. Space wondered just how she did that without them noticing. She sighed and patted her side, prompting the little girl to scamper behind her, peering around at the strangers with that same, oddly blank expression._

"_It's bring your daughter to work day." The woman muttered. "Chell, you will not wander off again."_

_The little girl's expression read 'I shall' in a million mile high letters._

"_Ah she's no bother love." The Brit replied, waving one gangly hand, "She's shy, eh? Not said a word."_

_When the woman spoke again it was in a voice laden with ice; "I am not your __**love**__. Furthermore, my daughter is mute, and knows not to communicate with strange men." she let out a sharp sigh, then added, "If you would follow me to the testing preparation area we can begin. Remember, you are doing this for science."_

_For the first time, as they trailed along behind the frost-box of a woman, Space felt a shudder of apprehension. Still, he shoved it down inside him; simple tests, he did them all the time at NASA, something to do with anti-gravity he'd been told._

"_Um, didn't catch your name." He mumbled, nudging the British man as they all entered the elevator._

_The man blinked, "Oh right, always forget to introduce myself, mum says people'd think I wasn't brought up properly." He licked his lips, "Stephen, Stephen Wheatley." He paused again, then laughingly added, "Inventor of the humans in robots initiative. Or something like that, I'm rubbish at names."_

"Space!"

Space looked up, how long had he been sitting there, staring into sp-

He shivered.

Into the air. There, much better. The other two had packed up all the things they lugged everywhere, the smaller one had dropped one of their bags next to him and was giving him one of those million-yard glares.

He twisted to look at the tall one instead, awaiting instructions.

Wheatley gave him a pitying look, "She wants us to get moving mate, pick up your bag, we're going. Gotta keep up, pull your weight." He nodded towards the short human, "Don't wanna loose her, trust me, she knows what she's doing."

Space kept staring at him, then the bag, "Going home? Space's big, don't wanna be in space anymore."

Wheatley glanced to Chell. She shrugged, then walked away a little, turning back and patting her side in a gesture Wheatley knew meant 'Follow me.'

He added his own methods, remembering how hard he'd found it to work out what all her hundreds of gestures meant; he'd have loved a translator when he was transferred. "Follow us Spacey. You jus' follow old Chell, she knows where we're going."

Nothing, Chell felt, could be further from the truth, but when he spoke with such conviction, she almost believed him herself.

The three set out, heading for the distant warehouse.


	4. Space

She was getting bigger.

Piling on the pounds a bit, even though she wasn't eating any more than him or Space, and both of them still had ribs showing.

Probably because they weren't moving now, Wheatley decided, wandering around the entrance of the big building they'd found. Chell was outside, digging through the scattered refuse for… for something. Always seemed to be on a mission, his Chell.

But yeah, they weren't moving. This was a confusing one; probably because Space couldn't keep up, Space tended to scamper about on all fours or stagger about looking for something to hang on to. Well, poor bloke hadn't had as long as him to get used to walking and so on.

He was helping though; Wheatley, expert on walking, special subject; one foot in front of the other. He grinned and tapped the long tree branch he'd been considering showing Chell on the ground (she liked it when he brought her carbon-based objects to burn and make the food hot), wandering in a circle around the thing before adding a little skip; he was bloody _brilliant_ at walking.

He sensed something watching and stopped, turning to see her standing, watching, one hand on her hip and head tilted slightly.

Ah, he knew that expression. It was the 'What on _earth_ are you doing?' expression.

He grinned widely and held the stick out, trying to look as if he hadn't just been skipping around it like a right numpty. "Look, found you something to burn! That's good right?"

She nodded, smiling back fondly and gesturing to the pile of wood and other burnable things she'd gathered, all shoved up against the big glass doors of the big building they were currently inhabiting. He added it to the pile and hurried back off to search for more, if it made her go all smiley he'd have to go dig up an entire tree.

Definitely getting bigger, his mind re-asserted. Piling on the pounds around her stomach anyway, the whole lower half was getting a bit swollen.

"And?" Wheatley huffed to himself, "So she's getting bigger, that might be normal- well, ok it's not happening to Spacey and I don't _think_ I'm getting bigger." He paused and watched his shadow, cast by the lowering sun. "Don't bloody need to get any bigger, already the size of a bloody house." He added, hating his gangly body; didn't seem fair that he was surrounded by tiny Chell and Space, who was just a little taller than her. GLAdos had probably put him in a mutant body.

GLAdos had always gone on and on about Chell's weight, hadn't she? He recalled himself trying that tactic once or twice and felt a sharp pain in his stomach at the idea.

He'd said all that and he wasn't even sure what was so bad about it, certainly he didn't care too much. It was a little weird, sure, seeing her changing shape like that, but then again he'd fairly recently changed shape and all Chell had done was hug him. Only fair to return the favour really.

He didn't much like that they'd stopped moving; moving was good, it was getting them further and further away from the facility and any influence she might have. Besides they weren't going to find other humans staying in one spot. Chell had been very insistent on their stopping though, and she seemed happy enough, and there was loads of food here, lying in piles on the half-disintegrated shelves.

"Space, space, space, space…"

Wheatley snapped out of the little trance he'd gone into and followed the sound, sort of like the turret opera, but more tuneless. He came to the corner of the warehouse and peered around it, watching as Space did… whatever he was doing.

Seemed to be building, as far as Wheatley could tell. That was nothing new, Spacey seemed to be collecting their empty tins from every meal to build whatever mad little contraption he was working on. Wheatley approached the hunched figure slowly, "What you upto mate?"

Space turned and grinned back, nodding to the tower of cylinders, empty tins, carefully placed one on top of the other into a tower of about waist-height. "Space!"

Wheatley feigned not understanding the word, "Sorry mate?"

Space's face fell, gold eyes (how the hell had _she_ rigged that up?) staring intently at his own fidgeting fingers; he licked his lips and tensed, as if every word caused the greatest strain; "Ell…lelell…" a little frown crossed his face, then he tried again, "Hell- ooooh. Helloh. Wuh-wuh-wuh…" a shudder wracked the poor man-thing's body, "Wuh-eet-lee."

Wheatley grinned. "There ya go! Good job mate, have you walking and talking and metabolising just like a human soon! What you building then?"

Space beamed and waved proudly towards his tower, "Space!"

The smile fell. Space's expression changed and he let out a soft, mammalian sound of frustration, before slapping the tower at a mid-point and watching it tumble with no obvious distress.

Wheatley winced, scrambling to gather the rolling tins, "Ah mate, don't give up like that, eh? Don't know what the heck you were building but it looked impressive, you can tell me what it's called when it's done and you switch it on, right?"

Space nodded, somewhat forlornly. "Wanna b-b-buh-ild… sp-sp-sp-" he concentrated, "Rrrrr-aay… doh."

"Ray-doh?" Wheatley repeated, then seeing the frustration rising again, nodded as if he had any idea of what that was, "Oh right! A ray dough! That's a good idea mate; just what this place was needing, a good ray-dough. Chell'll be dead chuffed, clever old you, eh?"

Space kept chewing his lip, but at least that had seemed to reassure him, nodding slightly and humming, he began to re-build his ray-dough tower.

Not an unqualified success, Wheatley considered, wandering back around to the front of the building. Still, any new word coming from Spacey was a tick, as far as he was concerned. In some ways he'd been bloody lucky; ok he was programmed to be a moron and make every mistake in the book, but he at least had freedom in his voice, even if he didn't always know what words meant he could use them. He couldn't imagine what it was like for Space, full of pre-programmed phrases and obsessions, unable to express what he wanted to say with any kind of ease. Even Chell had an elaborate sign language, Space didn't seem to grasp the concept though.

That night, Chell let _him_ light the fire for their food. He was delighted, first time he'd managed it without hurting his hands on the flames; Chell had looked so proud that the idea of being a giant didn't seem so completely awful.

After they ate, Chell had cuddled into his side, the pair sitting around the warm orange glow of the fire while over in his corner, surrounded by empty tins, Space muttered and twitched in his sleep. Wheatley had babbled on, mostly questions about… well, everything, really.

"Still don't understand why you want us to stop here love, but I suppose it's all right. Well, not all right, but we can fix it up; put some proper doors on rather than those glass things. Can't understand humans and glass; it's bloody sharp and you're- _we're_, sorry, made of fragile bags of _stuff_, and then you go shoving the stuff up everywhere. It's not even that pretty to look at." he glanced up at the big glass doors, shaking his head. Ok the stuff beyond the glass was probably a bit pretty to some humans. Stars and so on. Somehow lost its appeal when you'd almost been dragged out there though.

"Same with necks." He went on, "Skull I get, wrapped up in bone and so on, and chest's are a good idea with the whole cage-thing you keep all the vital bits inside, but neck? Might as well go around with a sign saying 'Cut here to end human'. No point going around with your head wobbling about on a great stalk…"

Against his side, Chell suddenly jolted, her mouth dropping open in a surprised squeak that made no sound. Her hand bolted to her slightly bulging stomach.

All of Wheatley froze up; excepting his mouth, of course. "Love? What's wrong? Bad food? Oh man, oh man, you're not going to do that food coming back up thing are you?" he shuddered, another thought surfacing from his memory banks, "Oh no, your appendix is exploding, isn't it? Space! How do you de-fuse an appendix?"

Chell threw one hand up to slap over his mouth, silencing him. One eyebrow raised she seized one of his hands with her free one and dragged it to the bulge on her tummy.

Beneath his palm, through the somehow hard (he was _sure_ it used to be soft when he touched it) skin of her stomach, Wheatley felt something flutter. Like the gentle whirr of a processor fan, or a distant cave collapsing.

His eyes widened, not waiting for the invite, he pressed his other hand beside the first, trying to absorb more of the sensation just through touch.

Chell lowered her hand from his mouth, a smile playing her lips that was completely unlike any other he'd seen on her face before. She tilted her head slightly, nodding as if giving permission for… something.

He swallowed hard, his voice-box seemed to be rebelling and going unreasonably high for a reason he couldn't really discern. "O-oh. Blimy."

He was aware that this was… something unusual. Not sure what, but certainly unusual. Any vague memories from when he was in charge of human care in the facility were very unhelpful about this situation.

He licked his suddenly-dry lips, "Cor, love… what've you got in there?" he lifted his head a bit to meet her eyes, "Sure its not something exploding? Feels a bit explodey."

Chell shook her head, her face suddenly took on that sad, pleading expression again. The same one she'd given him when he hadn't been able to figure out her word-puzzle about hearts.

He panicked, "Oh love don't, don't look like that!" he plead, pressing his hands a little more firmly to the bump, "Not exploding, right. It's a bit fluttery, isn't it?"

Chell nodded; the frown, however, remained.

He lowered his eyebrows, concentrating on trying to find any solution that might just get rid of the frown. She seemed to want him to say something about the fluttery, jumpy sensation under his hands which, he admitted, was terrifying but brilliant in some way that he had no words for.

He sighed; "Love… I'll be honest I don't know what you want me to say or what you've got growing in there…" he spotted the tear run down her cheek and quickly added, "It feels bloody fantastic though, whatever it is."

Chell smiled a little at this, nodding slightly. Ah, he felt like he was getting somewhere now.

"Um…doesn't hurt though, does it?" he paused, taking in her quick head-shake. "That's good. Definitely prefer it when you're not hurting… this is why we're not moving anymore, right?"

Chell nodded, a little more eagerly this time; god, she was desperate for him to understand whatever it was she was trying to tell him. He hated himself for not knowing; for how the answer seemed to be dancing just out of reach of his fingers.

He tried to apologise with his eyes, letting out a low sigh and resting his forehead on her tiny shoulder. "I'm sorry love, I really am… but… look, this is important to you, I see that, so it's important to me too. Even if I don't know what's going on."

Chell smiled gently, lifting her hand to run through his corn-blonde hair. She shifted slightly, tapped the back of his neck to make him look up, then nodded to their sleeping area, a poorly constructed nest of empty shelves pulled into a rough square for privacy and scrounged blankets.

He blinked, "Tired, love?"

Chell shook her head, her expression turning sly.

His face went hot; "Oh. Oh right. Heh. I can do that."

She squeezed his hand, rising to her feet and tugging him along behind her. Well, whether he understood or not, she herself felt elated at the knowledge of the life inside her beginning to move.

Outside, beneath moon and starlight, a figure tilted its head towards the sound of gentle moans and laughter, lips moving in rough disgust.

"Subjects approx. 0.5 miles away, or roughly 0.804672 Kilometres."

Beside the slender shape, a second, slightly stockier figure muttered, "Yanno, this would be better if the pretty one made some noise. Heh, but I guess maybe the big fella just ain't _hu-__man_ enough, eh?" an elbow shot out and jabbed the thin shape's side. "See what I did there? Eh?"

"Shut up. We'll go in tomorrow, try and remember; we were thrown out, failed subjects. Act normal… actually no, act as far from normal as you can get, maybe then you'll be bearable. Above all; _do not attract suspicion_. Leave the thinking to me."

The stocky shape huffed, turning over to lie flat on the earth, "Fine fine. And once it's over she's gonna give us anything we want, right? That was the deal."

In the darkness, pink eyes flared, flickered briefly yellow. The fact core nodded, his colourless hair falling in his brand-new eyes. "Yes, anything I want." He muttered, lowering himself to the ground and feigning sleep in the hopes that it would shut up his travelling companion.

"I'm gonna ask for a better body. Maybe some of those robot enhancements, eh? I'll be beatin the chicks off with a stick when I can lift entire mountains! Super-Rick, that's me! Ladies, form a line to my right for hot loving, dudes to my left for high-fives!" a blissful pause, followed by, "What about you? Eyes that work, maybe? A body that doesn't look like a lizard?"

Fact rolled his eyes. A memory hovered in his mind, of reciting facts by rote, being thrust suddenly into… into _something_ with immense, unimaginable control and power. For a brief, delightful second he'd been able to see, hear, feel _everything_, all the knowledge in the _world _and- and-

And someone _else_ was holding the reigns. And before he could reach out and even begin to try and wrestle it into his own hands, where it so obviously belonged, something had torn him away and it was back to the suddenly too-small space of his own mind.

He was going to get it back.

"Heh, maybe she could implant something in the pretty one so she'll be swoonin all over Ricky, right?"

If in the process he managed to get rid of this _idiot_, so much the better.

(A/N: ^^ Lookit! Plot deveolping! May slow up on the updates for a bit since I'm back to work on Monday but I'll do my best to keep this going.)


End file.
